Encounters
by Emmy the Writer
Summary: People wash in and out of our lives like the tides, waxing and waning as the moon. Some we forget, others we remember, and these are the people who touch our hearts. From war comes love, in whatever form it pleases, between anyone it desires. FF MF MM


A/N: I got in a romantic mood. Fishcakes do that to me. Expect these when I feel like them. Some allude to characters from _The Brotherhood_, but can be understood without reading it. The other character you'll meet as you read is an actual NPC.

Encounters

One: The Whisperwalker Siblings I

"It's a bit late to go out now, Ém," Alteon warned his younger sister with a grin as his acute hearing picked her up, sneaking behind where he sat with his legs in the small pool on the bottom floor of their house in Dolanaar. Her muffled footsteps eased from their shadowmeld and padded up to him, giving him a playful knock on he side of the head.

"I'm not a child," she huffed. "And I'm perfectly within my rights to go out whenever I please."

"This wouldn't have anything to do with that charming young boy you were talking to on Thursday, would it?" he flashed white teeth at her as her brow turned down into a scowl.

"Not at all," she said, her voice betraying a little apprehension. "I'd only ask you why you're still up this late, _and_ why you've been sneaking around and following me!"

"I'm perfectly within my rights to follow you whenever I please," he twisted her own words against her, his glowing blue eyes filled with mischief. "For all my prowess, I do so enjoy scaring off potential boyfriends."

Émíly groaned and sighed, looking at her older brother. He was dressed in soft cloth, embroidered with silver vines. He never wore cloth- he was a druid, and the leather of animals helped him tune himself to the land. It was all neatly pressed and washed, and his silky raven hair was artfully tossed about. It clicked.

"You're sneaking out," she said, cocking an eyebrow. "But to see whom? I've never seen you with anyone before…"

"Nor had I seen you until Keiran," he admitted.

"Keiran?" her eyes widened as she threw back her head and laughed. "By Elune, Alt, you think I'm sneaking out to be with _Keiran_?" He momentarily frowned at the nickname, but it was his sister. He'd let her off.

"You were all touchy-feely and laughing with him…" he thought hard. "In fact, you seem like that with a lot of boys lately, Ém."

"I am _not_ sneaking out to meet with any boys," she crossed her fingers in a promise. "I swear."

"Okay," he rolled his eyes. "Just let me be Honoured Speaker at your wedding."

"There won't be a wedding," she said softly, her eyes downcast. Alteon picked up on the change of emotion from indignant and boisterous to depressed.

"You're eloping?" was his first thought. "Mother would kill you-"

"No, Alt. I'm not eloping, and I'm not getting married." She leaned against a tall rock by the side of the pool. "Maybe I just shouldn't go. Call the whole thing off."

"I wouldn't want to stop you following your heart," he said seriously. "I was only joking with you earlier."

Émíly bit her lip in a habit she had picked up from their mother; she examined her boots with great interest, her stomach doing uncomfortable writhing movements, those one experiences before telling a great secret. Would she tell him? He was her brother, after all, but he was also a night elf, a druid, and a lot older than she.

"Ém?" he rose from the pool and walked over to her with grace only possessed by the elves. Touching her lightly on the shoulder, his purple-skinned hands resting on the midnight blue tunic she wore. "You're a beautiful girl. Any boy would be lucky to have you, and it's completely your choice."

This didn't help, as tears began to leak out of her eyes. "No, no, don't cry!" he implored her. "You're right, it's none of my business, you're not a child any more, go, go on, go out…"

"Shut up," she said shortly, nuzzling her head into his shoulder, smelling the comfortable scent of earth that resonated from him. "Do you promise… promise not to hate me?"

His eyes widened. "Why ever would I? You're my sister, Ém, my love for you is unconditional."

"Promise not to tell mother or father?" His stomach sank a mile, but he stroked her soft hair and reassured her. What on earth was she going through that even their parents couldn't be privy to? Evil magic? Had she done something stupid or wicked?

"Of course. Tell me," he said, his voice calm and smooth, washing over her ears like a gentle swell on the sandy shore, bringing calmness and clarity. If ever she could be this supportive…

"I like someone," she said, her face flushed. "Someone I shouldn't like." A substantial force lifted from his shoulders at this, but worry remained, heavy on his brow. The Whisperwalker family was not particularly noble, so she could pick practically any boy to like. Of course… maybe it wasn't a night elf. A Saytr? A High Elf? He stopped his explorative mind. Guessing was useless; he'd only believe what came out of her own mouth.

"Who do you like?" he asked, looking down into her eyes. "The person you're going to see tonight?" She nodded meekly, her heart thumping a million times a minute and her whole body quivering. This must have been such a great burden to her to affect her so. He wanted to push again, but it would come out when she decided, not when he did.

"I…" her mouth trembled, her voice little more than a whisper. "Alt… I don't think I can say it."

"You don't have to," he pulled her tight into a hug.

"Can I… can I show you?" she asked meekly, all her bluster gone, revealing a scared girl barely out of her thirties, that were considered the night elf equivalent of teenage years, with a secret that was eating her up from inside. He nodded and she led him out of their house and into the night, the dusky twilight of Teldrassil replaced with a more complete blanket, stars winking down at them as if to affirm their conspiracy. "Where are you meeting yours?"

"An hour from now," he said as his bare feet crushed the grass beneath him, crisp and turgid with the afternoon's rain. "And I shan't tell you where, nosy." She smiled minutely, her knuckles white on the hem of her tunic.

They walked for a while back in the direction of Aldrassil, but Émíly took a turn off to Starbreeze Village.

"Are you sure?" Alteon asked apprehensively. The enraged furbolgs around here were nothing he couldn't handle, but he feared that his sister was coming here, even on a one-off.

"Shhh," she said, wiping the last remnants of tears from her eyes and heading towards the faint luminescence of the moonwell that was a good distance from the village itself. Alt, being a druid and not a hunter like his sister, couldn't see anything in the gloom, but the look in Émíly's face told him everything. A smile, real and full, lit up her face better than even the magically coruscating waters of the moonwell. From the blackness came a figure, springing out from behind one of the tall poles and leaping into his sister's arms. They held each other for scant seconds before her lover looked from over her shoulder and saw Alteon.

"You brought your brother?" was what he heard. Hushed words were exchanged and he was finally treated to the sight of his sister's love. Danlyia, the provisions master's daughter, often seen around the small town, vending fresh bread and rosy apples. Danlyia, the provisions master's daughter. Danlyia, a girl. His sister was in love with another girl. They stood before him, Émíly wearing a painfully apprehensive expression and gripping Danlyia's hand as though it were her last lifeline.

"Master Whisperwalker," she said awkwardly, detaching herself from Émíly to greet him. "A pleasure to meet you."

"By Elune…" his eyes flitted between them. "When you said it was someone you shouldn't like… oh, Ém…" he stared helplessly at her, seeing a look of fear replacing the waning hope and euphoria of again seeing the girl she loved. She thought he was going to hate her, to tell her parents, to think what she was doing was unnatural and make her marry a boy. Her hopes and dreams rested firmly on what he said next. Feeling the pressure mounting, he realized that he himself didn't mind it, but that society would. She was right that there would be no wedding, no official recognition of their devotion.

"Ém, you're young…" he stopped mid-warning as he saw her eyes begin to fill with tears. She was giving to him the greatest trust she was able to offer, and if he broke it… he'd shatter her heart along with it. Her aspiration to be a hunter of renown, to explore new lands… though she had started exploring her own self already, it seemed. He stopped his warning and let his feature smoothen out, a soft smile coming to his lips.

"I said it before and I'll re-iterate myself. I love you unconditionally, whether you choose to love girls or boys." He turned to Danlyia. "I did such a good job chasing off potential boyfriends… only for my sister to end up with a girl. I don't know you or your family well, but I expect you'll adhere to all of the big-brother rules I set, understood?" she smiled big as shot a sidelong glance at his sister, filled with a radiant wave of victory and affection. She took Danlyia's hand into her own and squeezed it in a small but important sign of their binding.

"Of course, Master Whisperwalker," Danlyia said nodding at him, before adding at the end, somewhat self-consciously. "I love her, sir. I'd never give her up."

That did prompt him to ask something. "How long have you two been… seeing each other… behind everyone's backs?"

Émíly raised an eyebrow at him before turning to her girlfriend and trying to work it out. "Well, I was about forty when we started…" By Elune, that was nearly two years ago. Night Elves lived for a great length of time, though no longer immortal, and that kind of span was considered short… but to have kept that up in the close community of Dolanaar… they must have gone through so much. He tipped his hat metaphorical hat to them. He had been courting his sweetheart for nearly five years, though not until recently had they begun to seriously think of making anything of it. Alteon was a master druid, in his three hundreds, and in the very middle of the night elf fertility span. To settle down now and start a family seemed a good idea to him.

"Who are you going to see, Alt?" Émíly asked as she swung her hand, intertwined as it was with Danlyia's, back and forwards. He coloured slightly.

"I think a meeting is the most I can repay you for… if you'd be willing to share your secret with your future sister-by-law?" he asked, and she let out a soft acclamation, that quickly turned to mischief.

"No… I want to have the same look as mother and father when you bring her home," she said, grinning at him. "Unless she is a he, then I would be quite surprised." Danliya let out a small giggle, like a wind chime.

"No, no, she is definitely a she," he said, baulking inside at the thought. He enjoyed the company of other men, but did not look at them in that way. Though he supposed, if his sister could like girls, than men could like other men… even people he knew…

He shook his head of that and took Émíly into a tight hug before leaving for his rendezvous, thinking that he must introduced his fiancée to his parents soon, or the look on their faces alluded to my the young hunter may be more outraged that surprised.

Perhaps he should pick some flowers on the way?


End file.
